Thanksgiving, 1973
by AndThatWasEnough
Summary: Maybe Ponyboy was right. Maybe normal Thanksgivings just weren't their thing. {One-shot}


**Author's Note: Guys, I love a little domestic drama, especially during the holidays. Well, as long as it's not happening to me. How about we torture these colorful characters instead, huh?**

 **Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. Still. **

**Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

People like to think of Thanksgiving – like many things – in the clichés that come along with it. There's the parades and the relatives coming over for dinner and the pumpkin pie and a picture-perfect turkey and so much family you're fit to burst from all the goddamn _love_. It's all sort of disgusting, really. And the expectations of perfection are completely unrealistic, especially when you consider the people involved in this particular scene.

For starters, you've got one couple – whose relationship is still, compared to the others, pretty new – and they're hiding something. And they're _good_ at hiding it. They know exactly what they're doing, exactly how to play it.

The other couple, well, they spent a few weeks over the summer following the Grateful Dead on their east coast tour, and if that doesn't say all that you need to know about them, you're not paying attention.

Then the couple behind door number three – our (perhaps) unfortunate hosts – are the only ones who outwardly appear to have their shit together, but that's just working on the surface, and comparing isn't really fair, is it?

Oh. And there's a ranch hand and a student of the Midwest's Ivy, so there's that, too.

And they all converged on Mr. and Mrs. Steven Randle's home one Thanksgiving, 1973

xXx

"Have I reminded you today of how insane you are for doing this? Cuz if not, this is your reminder that you are absolutely fuckin' _bonkers_ for doing this. Why are we doin' this again? Also, this has to be the seven-hundredth time you've listened to this album. This week, probably."

Evie sometimes forgot how much Steve could talk. He seemed to save up all his conversational skills for her and Sodapop. He even talked in his sleep, sometimes. She stopped her dancing around the kitchen and wheeled around and leaned her hip up against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, staring hard at her husband. More than a year of his bullshit – more than that, actually. How long had they been together? Since they were fourteen, fifteen? Something ridiculous like that.

"Because I want to," Evie said simply. "And I know how many times I've listened to this album, and this is the third time today that you've told me I'm _absolutely fuckin' bonkers_. You're not changing my mind, Steve Randle."

For those curious, the album was _There Goes Rhymin' Simon,_ and Steve thought Evie was _absolutely fuckin' bonkers_ because, as we all already know, she had up and decided that she wanted to have Thanksgiving at their house this year because, well, she and Steve had been married for over a year now and they hadn't done anything like it before, and she wanted to test her hostess skills. But yes, she was probably crazy, but this wasn't exactly a revelation. Let's just say both she and Steve knew what they were getting into with each other.

"Remind me who's coming."

Evie shut her eyes and recited, "Darry and Jackie, Soda, Ponyboy, Bee and Two-Bit, my parents, Beth, and your father."

Steve groaned. _"Fuck_. That's right. Why'd you invite him?"

"Because he's your father. What, you want him to just sit alone when he could just as easily be over here with us?"

"That's usually what he prefers."

Evie sighed and sank down into a chair at the kitchen table. "I know you two have your differences – "

"Understatement."

" – but he's still your father, and he should be here. He's not going to say no. I mean, he came to the wedding."

Steve threw up his hands. Evie didn't understand. She hadn't grown up in the same sort of family environment that he had, meaning he'd hardly had one after his mother passed. His childhood died with his mother, and his father was a shell of a man afterwards. It was hard for him to believe sometimes that a mild-mannered junior high math teacher could get so heated in their arguments, but he could and he did. Sure, in his heart of hearts, Steve knew he didn't really hate his father, that there was some sort of love for him that was attached to the man he once was, but they were two very different men. As his mother's health declined, so did Steve's attitude and behavior, and he transformed into a delinquent faster than James Dean.

"Well, boy howdy, good for _him_ , he came to our _wedding_. Like he wasn't morally obligated," he spat.

"That's somethin', Stevie," Evie said, her tone harsher than her words. "He's coming, and that's final, ya hear?"

"Where do you get off, makin' all these decisions on yer own?"

Evie smiled, but not sweetly. Oh, no. "God knows where we'd be if we let _you_ decide _any_ thing."

xXx

"How does this look?"

Well, Darry was no fashion expert, but he was pretty sure it looked like a dress. Jackie liked to model for him, which he didn't mind. He didn't mind at all, actually, because he was a red-blooded American male, and Jackie was a red-blooded American _fe_ male. Does he need to draw a picture? Really – does he? Didn't think so.

"Looks fine," he said casually. "Red's a nice color."

"In general, yes," Jackie mused. She stood in front of the bedroom mirror and examined herself, wondering if it was almost _too_ red. But she liked the cut and the feel of it, the billowing skirt and sleeves, the deep V-neck that – due to the puffy material – didn't reveal _too_ much. It was all about degrees. "But I was wondering how it looked on _me_."

"Great," Darry shrugged. "You look great in red."

Maybe so, but there wasn't much enthusiasm in his voice. Jackie would know it was _the_ dress when he gave her the right reaction. It may have just been Thanksgiving dinner, but she wanted to look good for it regardless. She shook her head slightly at herself in the mirror; this wasn't the one. So she went back into her closet, looking over her newest finds. How she missed shopping in New Orleans! Tulsa was hardly the most fashionable city in the country, but Jacqueline Fontenot was always able to make lemonade out of lemons, so she made do. Besides – Darrel Curtis wasn't in New Orleans, was he?

Her fingers passed over a bell-shaped royal blue dress. She held it up to her body, thinking-thinking-thinking, then slipped off the red dress and slipped on the blue one. Then she stepped back out of the closet and did a slow turn. "Better?"

Darry looked her up and down, appraising her. He smirked and nodded once. "Yeah."

Jackie beamed. That was what she was looking for. It was a subtle thing, but Darrel was a subtle man, and changes that were unnoticeable to others made a world of difference to her. She could read him like a book, and was one of the few people that could. She had learned to speak his language so quickly. This past spring and summer had been a whirlwind, but she was more confident than ever that she was going to stay right here. Especially now.

"Come zip me up," she said, and Darry got off the bed and obliged, his hands running over her shoulders when he got to the top.

"Looks good," he murmured.

"Thank you," she said, then sighed. "I want them to like me."

"They do."

"I want them to _keep_ likin' me. I feel like…that could change."

Darry shook his head. "Not a chance. Though, I'm prolly gonna catch hell from the guys," he laughed. "It's fine, Jaq. Really."

"Then I want the other girls to like me," she said, and Darry sighed.

" _They do_. Stop it."

"I don't want anything to change," she whispered.

Darry sighed again and rested his chin on top of her head. They both stared back at each other in the mirror. "Think it's a little too late for that."

xXx

This was possibly the world's heaviest box of cassettes on planet Earth that was sitting in Bridget's lap. She rifled quickly through them as she looked for the perfect one, trying to find just the right show, and she wanted to work quickly to avoid any dead space between the one currently playing and the next. Cassettes really were the future. How else would they be able to relive the music from these performances? Two-Bit briefly took his eyes off the road and peered at her through his sunglasses, lightly swatting at her arm to get her attention.

"Do, uh, first night in Philly. Got that great encore."

Bridget snapped her fingers but said nothing as she quickly located the tape and switched it out of the player, putting the tape from Boston's September of '72 show away in its rightful chronological place. They'd followed the Dead more this year than they had this year. Last year, they'd gone to all twelve shows in their summer east coast tour that went from Boston to Springfield, Mass. This year they'd done the spring _and_ summer east coast tours. But that's just how it was. Perhaps a bit blasé, but it was something they could afford to be blasé about. There were other things – especially in Bridget's mind – that were becoming much more urgent issues. Like marriage.

Two-Bit's Impala sailed past the outer city limits and thundered into Tulsa. Bridget stared down at her hands; the early morning sunlight glinted off the ring on her left hand. Pretty. She was hoping it might catch her betrothed's eye and make him start thinking along the same lines, but she wasn't out to blind him.

She couldn't let go of that part of her, that privileged, upper-class, snob that just wanted to settle down, no matter how much fun they were having on the road, just being together.

"Fuckin' mornin' traffic," Two-Bit bitched, even as he drummed his hands lightly against the steering wheel along with the music.

"Told you we shouldn't have driven through the night."

"If I recall, it wasn't _you_ , it was _me_. I was the one drove all night, not you."

"Well, that was your choice, wasn't it?"

"Alright. That's enough of that. Hey, I've got an idea – instead of headin' straight to see my mother or whoever, we should head up to the city overlook, park, and _fai dolce, dolce amore_."

"I don't know any Italian," Bridget said haughtily, though she could figure what he was probably getting at.

"Sono un bravo insegnante e tu sei uno studente disponibile. Ti insegnerò e poi ti insegnerò alcune cose anche in italiano." Then he winked, and Bridget rolled her eyes and popped him in the shoulder. She really needed to pick up an Italian-English dictionary. How dare his mother raise him bilingual and give him the opportunity to get away with every dirty joke he wanted.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm sure your mother would faint if she heard it, so you'd better shut your trap."

"That's no way to talk to your future husband."

"Oh, is that what you are?"

The car is front of them stopped suddenly in the traffic, and Two-Bit slammed on the brakes, sending both of them forward. Bridget yelped and once she was settled back, she turned to glare at Two-Bit only to find him doing the same. "What the hell, Keith?"

His eyes briefly widened, but then he went right back to being somewhere between ticked off and mildly pissed. "It's too goddamn early for this."

"For what?"

"Talkin' 'bout this."

"What, marriage?"

"Yes. The sun's barely even up, kid. It's so early, I forgot Keith was even my real name and I was wonderin' if there was a third person in the car with us. For the love of _God_ , Bridget. Save it for later."

Yes, but he didn't mean later that day, he meant _later_ -later. Bridget grumpily huffed, crossed her arms, and stared out the window in the opposite direction of him while they listened to the Grateful Dead sing about how they loved each other, and Lord, you could see it was true.

xXx

There's something sort of funny about a guy named Ponyboy petting a horse named Ziggy Stardust. But that's what was happening.

"Beautiful horse ya got here, Soda."

Soda smiled and started stroking Ziggy's back. "Yeah, well, he ain't mine, exactly."

"Far as I'm concerned he is."

"It's always as far as you're concerned. You're the kid who tried to buy back a horse for me that wasn't even mine!"

Pony froze, embarrassed. He had been eleven years old, and not exactly at his brightest. Hell, he probably wasn't at his brightest even now – definitely still an idiot. Darry could confirm. "You know about that?"

Sodapop gave him a funny look. "Well…yeah, kid. We all read your theme."

Oh. Right. Ponyboy smiled sheepishly and ducked his head, then went back to focusing his attention on Ziggy. He hadn't really thought about that theme of his in a while. He quickly tucked it into the back of his mind, leaving any more consideration of it for later – much, much later, preferably, then decided to change the subject. "Did you hear that Steve's dad's comin' to Thanksgiving?"

Soda sighed and leaned up against one of the posts, smiling a bit grimly. "Sure did," he hissed, crossing his arms. Of course, he knew John. He wasn't really quite as bad as Steve sometimes made him out to be – not like Two-Bit's dad, or Johnny Cade's or Dallas Winston's. They were just two different people – two _very_ different people, in point of fact. John Randle was a mild-mannered Midwesterner; Steve was his rowdy juvenile delinquent son. Funny enough, though, when Steve got back from Vietnam, listless and only positive about one thing (marrying Evie), it was his father who got him grounded, and Steve fell into the same line of work as the old man – teaching middle schoolers math. Steve had always been smarter than he let on or believed himself to be. "Should be interestin'."

"One word for it," Pony said wryly. "Man, we never have normal Thanksgivings."

Soda narrowed his eyebrows. "What're you talkin' 'bout?" As far as Sodapop could remember, their Thanksgivings over the years had been perfectly normal. Sure, they hadn't had parents in a while, and they were kinda poor and all that, but that didn't mean that their Thanksgivings were any weirder than anyone else's. "We've had plenty of normal Thanksgivings."

Pony rolled his eyes. "You really don't remember a damn thing. Damn, Sodapop, it's no wonder you're always forgettin' your shoes! You really don't remember all the shit that's happened?" Soda slowly shook his head. Ponyboy's arms fell dramatically to his side, and then started ticking off on his fingers. "There was that one year Dad caught the kitchen curtains on fire, the year _you_ got brained by Darry's spiral and got a concussion, the year Two-Bit threw up in our sink, the year the freakin' _Cades_ stormed over cuz Johnny hadn't been home in days…and every year, you dye the mashed potatoes a screwed-up color that they're not s'posed to be. Something goes screwy every year, without fail."

Sodapop stared at his little brother. Saint Ponyboy the Exasperated. Soda figured Pony should cut him a little slack for not remembering the year with the concussion, but he did remember the year with the Cades pretty well. But he didn't have any issue with all of that. "What's wrong with my potatoes?" Sodapop demanded.

" _They're s'posed to be white._ "

Pony's big brother just shook his head and got him in a headlock. "You ain't no fun! C'mon – let's head in. It's gettin' cold and Flying Circus is about to start."

xXx

As soon as the Impala pulled up in front of Steve and Evie's, Evie was running out of her house in a dead sprint, barefoot even in the November chill, jumping off her porch and running down the front walk just so she could pounce on Bridget, who caught her with an _oomph_ and a cough that was startled out of her. Evie had pealed out of her house screaming, and as soon as she was hugging Bridget, they were _both_ screaming, and anybody who wasn't a woman who witnessed the event had no idea what sort of satanic ritual this was and why it was happening.

They all came to the conclusion that they'd just missed each other.

"Think I liked it better when they couldn't stand each other," Steve shook his head, shaking Two-Bit's hand and clapping him on the back. Steve would never admit it – and neither would Two-Bit – but he missed his buddy, more than he liked to let on. Hell, he even missed Ponyboy sometimes. Things just weren't quite the way they used to be.

Two-Bit laughed at him. "Trust me – this is better."

Yeah, it probably was. "Seen anybody else yet?" Steve asked.

"Stopped by Mom's. We'll start here and then make our way over there in the evening for a bit, then prolly come back here." Two-Bit rolled his eyes and started shaking his head, explaining with an exasperated sigh, "Sadie's on some givin'-back kick, if ya know what I mean, and the two of them are helpin' out at the church most of the day."

Steve snorted. "Do-gooders."

The two shared a knowing smile. Bridget and Evie made their way back up the sidewalk to the house, gossiping arm-in-arm, shooting the two men looks as they sauntered by. "Come inside," Evie called over her shoulder. "Colder than a witch's tit out here!" Bee smacked Evie's arm but laughed all the same. Steve sighed.

"Eve's kinda on my case," he mumbled, neither man making a move to head inside.

"What for?"

"My old man's comin' over."

Two-Bit's mouth formed an 'o'. "Yikes. That'll do it." Steve closed his eyes and nodded. "Hey – compared to my in-law problems, yours are a cakewalk."

Steve glared. "You don't _have_ in-laws yet. You're not _married_. Get my drift?" Two-Bit just stared back at him, eyebrow cocked, not saying anything. Which, as Steve knew since he knew getting Two-Bit to shut up was _usually_ the problem, meant that he was actually saying quite a lot. Steve sighed. "I have no fuckin' idea how I'm gonna get through this _fucking stupid_ -ass holiday."

Two-Bit laughed outright and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Steve glared at the offending hand before glancing up at his friend. "Oh, my dear, dear Steven. I have something to remedy _that_."

And then he took Steve out to the Impala and opened up a cigar box that had been hidden in the glovebox, filled with filmy paper and a bag of grass.

xXx

"The hell is your problem, stoppin' by Soda's place before mine?"

Pony grinned and stepped into his oldest brother's embrace. "Yeah, Darry – good to see you, too. And last I checked, this was still my place, too."

"The hell it is!"

Sodapop just smiled and shook his head at his brothers' ongoing back-and-forth. He had missed it, plain and simple. Darry would never admit to it, but he was a little heartbroken when Pony chose University of Chicago – it was just so far away. But they wanted him, and he wanted them, and in Pony's eyes was a match made in Heaven. He got to go be Joe Cool up there in Chi-Town, going by Mike instead of his real name. Sodapop wasn't sure if anyone up there even _knew_ his real name, besides the registrar. But then Pony would come home, and it would be just like it always was.

Well. In a manner of speaking. Their "always" was always changing, it seemed. In good ways and bad.

For instance: when Sodapop had pulled up in front of their childhood home, Pony instantly noticed the "For Sale" sign in their front lawn and seemed to shrink in on himself a little. Nobody had gotten around to telling him the news yet, it seemed. But he took it in stride, didn't say anything about how he thought Darry and Jackie might be taking things a bit too fast, took a deep breath and grabbed his duffel from the car and went up the driveway and waltzed right in because he was right – this was his home when he was back from school. And this specific house still would be for the foreseeable future.

"Hey, Jaq – love what you've done with the place," Pony smirked, letting Jackie hug him – or, squeeze the livin' daylights out of him, more like it. "Looks like the Brady house," he choked out. Jackie laughed.

"Oh, well, ya know," she drawled, stepping back and looking proud of herself, "it just needed a womanly touch after you boys wreakin' havoc in it for so long." Darry just rolled his eyes. Soda chuckled.

"Got that right, sister," he said, leaning in for a hug and kissing her cheek. She looked a little stunned when he pulled away, just for a split second, but instantly recovered with an even brighter smile, barely missing a beat.

"Pony, I trust you remember where your room is?" Darry asked. Pony just smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha," he deadpanned. "I'll be back in a few."

Ponyboy threw one more smile over his shoulder at his family before heading back through the house to his childhood bedroom, shutting the door behind him and tossing his duffel bag on the bed, then flopping down next to it and groaning into the quilt. He was… _tired_. And feeling a little empty. Pony loved being home, more than ever now that he lived so far away and had left behind his family and friends and everything he'd ever known. And now, Jackie had completely redecorated the house, and not only that, Darry was _selling it_. Pony knew what that meant; he knew what it meant all too well. When Steve and Evie moved in together, they all knew things were serious, sure. Then they bought a house! And were married on the Fourth of July, 1972. Then there was Two-Bit and Bee, of course. Her parents had helped them buy a house after they were engaged, but they weren't married yet. But Ponyboy knew that getting a house with somebody was a big step, and it was one his brother was taking now. And Pony liked Jackie – he did – but she hadn't been seeing Darry nearly as long as Evie had Steve, or Bee had Two-Bit. Worse, since Pony was still in school, it meant he'd be coming home to a house he hadn't grown up in, had no memories of.

Or – worse than that: _He'd be expected to get his own place_.

Pony muffled a frustrated little cry into the quilt on his bed. Then he sat up, took a deep breath, and started to unpack.

xXx

Between the five of them, they figured they had Thanksgiving dinner handled. There was no way in hell any of them were letting those guys near the kitchen because they would just fuck everything up, and that was most definitely a good move. Mrs. Martin, Evie, Beth, Bridget, and Jackie knew they were more than capable, and their ten hands could get the job of feeding twelve people done. Evie, since she was playing at hostess, still wanted to do most of the heavy lifting because these were her guests, after all, and she didn't want Bridget (AKA Pseudo-Miss Emily Post) judging her for anything. Or Jackie, either, because she'd grown up well-off, too.

Evie just wanted everyone to be _so_ impressed.

That's why she had her arm shoved up a turkey's ass.

"This is so disgusting," Beth shakily laughed, looking a cross between nauseated and amused. Jackie and Bridget both kept their distance while Mrs. Martin helped Evie along.

"Hush, Beth." Evie wasn't so easily put off. Yes, she felt stupid-looking, but they couldn't very well just leave the bag in there. So she slowly pulled it out, the bag of entrails and half of her arm covered in a sort of slime, and her audience applauded her.

"Bravo!" Bridget clapped. Evie ducked her head in a bow and threw the bag in the sink while her mother got the turkey in a bag to brine overnight. "Evelyn, you are a wonder."

"She-Queen of Thanksgiving," Beth added brightly, giggling. Evie flicked her watery hands at her after washing them, making all three of them squeal.

"Yeah, yeah." But she was grinning. "Y'all're just sissies."

"Well if being a sissy means I don't ever have to do _that_ , then I don't mind," Jackie sniffed. Bridget smiled slowly at Evie, and Evie just rolled her eyes. They liked Jackie, they really truly did; she was just…an easy target at times. Though, to be fair, Bridget had been an easy target for Evie for a long time, especially when they'd first met. Maybe Evie had a bit of a problem, is what we're getting at. Even if she did usually come around.

"One less thing to worry about tomorrow," Evie eventually settled on saying, shrugging.

"What's left for tomorrow anyways?" Beth asked, moving over to look at a list her mother was holding and crossing things off of. It was quite the to-do list, but again, the five of them were completely confident in their culinary abilities. Beth was probably the least capable in the kitchen of all of them, but that was merely a matter of experience, and the rest of them knew that in time, she'd become more adept. Evie, Bridget, and Jackie liked to think of themselves as being progressive, and they were – but they also had enough common sense to know that a woman needed to know how to do some certain things. Being as good in the kitchen as they were in the bedroom was one of those things.

"Bridget's on pie duty," Mrs. Martin reported. "Don't wanna mess with those tomorrow."

Bridget, with her hands on her hips and a confident smile, said, "I've got dough in the fridge, so if you all don't mind – "

"Yeah, yeah," Beth waved her hand. "Let the pastry master work. Mom, come help me with the centerpiece."

Beth dragged her mother by the hand out into the dining room while Bridget attacked the refrigerator, pulling out three balls of pie dough and began setting to work on pecan, apple, and pumpkin pies. It was delicate work, which is usually why everyone let her and her thin, tiny piano-player hands do this particular job. After a few moments of rolling out pastry, Bridget sensed she wasn't alone and looked over her shoulder. Jackie and Evie were just staring at her. "What?" Jackie and Evie looked sideways at each other. Bridget was getting uncomfortable, what with how they both had their arms crossed over their chests, leaning casually ( _too_ casually) against the opposite set of counters, just staring at her. Not unkindly, but it was still a bit odd, especially with how quiet they were being. Jackie especially usually had trouble shutting up. " _What?_ " Bridget repeated nervously.

"You set a date yet?" Evie asked, working to keep her voice extremely – yes – casual.

Bridget knew exactly what she was talking about, and she inhaled sharply. It was a good thing she had the dough and pie fillings to take her frustrations out on. "Not yet," she said, also trying to stay sounding casual, but even she heard the little shake in her voice. "We just…we're doing other things right now."

"Right," Jackie said cheerfully. "You're just…enjoying being engaged."

"Yes," Bridget sighed. Evie let her arms fall to her sides and rolled her eyes.

" _Cut the shit_ ," she said lowly. "You're gettin' fed up, I can tell. Why don't ya just put yer foot down and tell him it's time to pick a date and just get it done? It ain't nothin' to be _scared_ of – "

"Well, I don't know," Jackie shrugged, "marriage can be a scary idea."

"Marriage is not that scary!" Evie said dismissively, almost mockingly. " _I'm_ married, and sure, it's a lot of work, but it ain't scary. Are you scared, Bee?"

Bridget shook her head. "No. I said I'd marry Two-Bit because I want to marry him."

"Exactly! So pin 'im down!"

It wasn't that easy. Bridget didn't know why it wasn't, but for as much as she wanted to be married to him, she found it hard to sit him down and make him pick a date. Because she had no idea what happened once you were, and she knew Two-Bit didn't know either. That was the scary part. Neither of them wanted things to change because they felt so _right_ , but Bridget didn't want to carry around the embarrassment of a prolonged engagement that was prolonged in the first place for stupid reason. Bridget played with the lid of the pumpkin pie spice, staring blankly at a can of pumpkin. "Jackie's right," she whispered. "What happens once we…once we _are_ married?"

Evie stared at her like she was stupid. "Um…you're just married. You live together, and the two of you already do that." Bridget turned around and just stared at her, and realization slowly dawned on Evie. On Jackie, too. "Oh. _Oh!_ You mean…you're talking about kids." Bridget nodded slowly. Evie chuckled. "Hey, there's no rush on that, either. Steve and I aren't chompin' at the bit to be parents just yet. Hell, I'm still on the pill."

"You're on the pill?" Jackie asked, almost sounding jealous. Evie nodded.

"Sure am. And when we're ready, I won't be."

Jackie almost seemed to deflate further. She'd never been on the pill. She was surprised Evie was so on-board, being Catholic and all. "Oh."

"Don't you wanna be a mom, though?" Evie asked Bridget, eyes narrowed. "Hell, Two-Bit's a real goof, we all know that, but he'll be a good daddy. I really don't think you should sweat it too much."

"I think that's part of the problem," Bridget admitted, slowly folding canned pumpkin and spices and such together to make the filling. "I think he thinks that as soon as we get married, we're gonna start wanting to have kids, and then everything will change."

"No more Grateful Dead concerts," Evie said sagely.

Bridget snorted. "Right."

"Maybe not everything will change," Jackie tried. "He'll still love you – maybe even more once you have a kid."

It was almost as if Jackie was trying to convince herself.

xXx

To the uneducated outside observer, the guys were having a lot more fun.

It was probably the weed.

Probably.

Because none of them wanted to admit to their unconditional love for each other. Men don't appreciate their friends in that way. They buy each other beers and clap each other on the back and affectionately punch each other. They weren't going to admit to being this glad to see each other, when things in their lives were changing so rapidly. That some things do stay the same, and one of those things was the five of them against the world.

"I always feel like it should still be seven," Soda sighed, smoke curling from his lips. He looked out at his brothers and buddies, the five of them sitting together in the Randle's basement. "To Dal and Johnnycake."

"Here, here."

Darry took a puff off the joint, lounging back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Getting high for him really only made him just marginally more relaxed. Weed didn't seem to do a whole lot to any of them but make them hungry and thoughtful. If you didn't know any of them, a stranger might just think they were perfectly normal and not under the influence of anything. Besides, they didn't do it _that_ often – Two-Bit was the one who usually supplied, and he wasn't always around. "So your old man's comin' tomorrow?"

Steve sighed and tapped his knees with his hands. "Yep. Evie wants this…big Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving. She reasoned that if Dad came to the wedding, then why the hell wouldn't he come over for Thanksgiving? Watch the ball game, eat turkey, ya know – be normal."

"Your dad _is_ normal," Soda reminded him. "He's _vanilla_. I don't see what the hell you're so worried about."

"Well, gee, Sodapop. I don't know if you've noticed over the years, but he and I don't exactly get along all that well."

"But things are different now," Two-Bit shrugged. He shot Steve a lazy grin. "Don't act like he ain't done nothin' for ya. He kinda pulled yer ass outta the fire."

"Two-Bit's right – things are different," Pony said, and the other four silently prepared themselves for a bit of a speech. " _Real_ different. And I think he's tryin' to be better, Steve. I mean, he said yes. He's comin' over. That's somethin', right? Maybe he's trying harder than you are to make things better. Why wouldn't you want that?"

"That's fair, Stevie," Sodapop grinned. Pony looked over at Steve and asked, _"Got any records?_ " and Steve pointed him to the corner to let him pick something. "He's gettin' older – maybe he wants to patch things up."

"Yeah, and yours deserves a shot," Two-Bit tacked on, jabbing a finger at his friend. "Some of us won't ever get that chance, and Lord knows mine wouldn't'a got the _time of day_ outta me for all the shit he pulled. So I think it's okay that he's gonna be here."

Soda was really the only one in the room besides Steve who knew John all that well, but the other boys knew him and knew that in comparison to most of the other dads in their neighborhood besides Darrel Senior, John was just…stubborn. And quiet. And very, very sad. Losing a spouse was hard, and some bridges you just can't gap. Steve understood, but it didn't make him any less angry, or disappointed. "Sure," he sighed a bit bitterly. "I bet it'll be grand." The open notes of _Revolver_ drifted quietly towards the group as Pony settled back down on the shag carpet, quietly singing under his breath. Steve – and the rest of the group – had made their peace with The Beatles over the years, and let go of that bit of ignorance from their teenage years. Ponyboy especially. And this one was pretty good to get high to.

"Y'all are startin' to bring me down," Darry sighed, and Two-Bit murmured an _amen_. "Stop…talkin' 'bout dead people and fathers and shit."

"Good point," Pony said with a finger pointed at his brother. "What we should be talkin' about is the _future_. Like how you and Jackie are sellin' the house."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't know that?"

There was an awkward quiet as Ponyboy looked at the members of his family, all of whom seemed to already have come to an acceptance with this fact. Pony just gaped like a fish. "Okay, so why _didn't_ I know that?" When his question was only met with silence and looks directed to anyone and anywhere but him, he continued, with much less venom in his voice. "Guys…guys, it's my home, too."

"Pony…" Soda tried, but Ponyboy just shook his head, looking near tears. Oh – right. He got a little weepy when the high…scratch that. Pony was just a weepy kid.

"Everything's changing so fast," he said softly, grabbing everyone's attention. Though, it was clear to all of them – or, at least, the rest of them – that Ponyboy had always been good at grabbing their attention without having to do anything at all, not a single thing. There were all as tuned-in to him as they were to each other. "Everything," he repeated. "And we're letting it."

"What else are we s'posed to do?" Darry asked. "Things change whether we want them to or not. We don't get a say in that. Thought you had that figured by now."

Ponyboy _hated_ when Darry said shit like that. How his brother just assumed he'd figured out every horrible lesson Darry had learned. That everyone realized and processed the truths about life's mysteries at the same rate. And speaking of that theme of his, Darry had done the exact same thing after Johnny and Dallas had died. _"You don't just stop living because you lose somebody. I thought you knew that_." And yeah, those words had stuck with Pony. Not just so he could write them down later for an accurate account of events, but because of that bitter tone in his brother's voice, all the unsaid words hiding behind the words he did say. That Pony should have learned his lesson by now, what with their parents being dead. That change and death should just stop being a surprise and should stop hurting.

"Screw you, Darry," Pony said softly, shaking his head. Darry didn't even look surprised he said it.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, kid," Two-Bit said, trying to smooth things over, as much a peacekeeper as Sodapop was. "Look, some things change, and some things stay the same. Like us, we're always gonna be here," he tried, keeping his voice light. It didn't help. Sodapop sighed and leaned his forehead on his arms.

Even to the uneducated observer, it was now pretty obvious that fun had left the basement.

xXx

The morning of Thanksgiving, Evie stood in her kitchen in her robe, a kicky light blue number that barely covered her ass, wrestling the turkey into the oven. Bridget's pies from the night before were in the fridge. Evie's counters were covered in bags of cranberries and vegetables ready to be chopped up for dressing and potatoes both red and sweet ready to be mashed. Steve walked in, already showered and shaved and ready to face the day (and more than that), stopping short when he saw how everything was already a mess, unable to fathom how any of this would become Thanksgiving dinner.

He whistled. "Hooboy."

"Agreed," Evie mumbled. Steve thought she looked like she needed a cigarette. She really was crazy to do all this. Evie was gonna drive one of them to the looney bin one day, he could feel it. Steve watched as she grunted and shoved the bird into the oven, letting out a relieved sigh as she slammed the door shut. "Step one of a thousand."

"Girls'll be by later to help, right?" Evie nodded.

"Yeah, but I've still got plenty to do before then. And I'm the _hostess_. I _should_ be doing most of the work." Steve didn't know if that was right or just Evie-logic, but he wasn't going to argue. Evie turned around and considered her husband, nodded her head once. "You look nice. I'll bet you the rest of the guys wear exactly what you're wearin' though." Steve was wearing a flannel tucked into his jeans, belt and everything. He thought it was appropriate for the season, and didn't make him look like a total slob. So Evie was probably right. Especially where Soda was concerned, since he wore flannel just about every chance he got. Like they were all lumberjacks or something. "Why don't you go watch the parade or something? Watch the front door for me."

Evie was being far too tame. It was making Steve feel uneasy. "When are people gonna get here?"

"Well, dinner's at three – probably. So. Before then," she grinned. "And I'll be gettin' dressed right before. Ain't there football today, too?"

Yeah, way too tame. "Uh. Yeah. Redskins are in Detroit, Dolphins are playin' the Cowboys."

"Alright, well, you just sit down and I'll take care of this."

"'Kay."

Steve did as he was told. If Evie was feeling tame, Steve was feeling uncharacteristically complacent. Maybe he just didn't want to rock the boat too much. So he watched the parade and waited nervously for everyone – mostly his father – to arrive. But the first person to show up was Sodapop, and he just walked right in, which Steve knew his father would never do.

"Happy Thanksgiving, man!" Count on Sodapop to be the most cheerful person in any room at any given time. Steve hugged him tighter than he meant to. Actually, Steve hugging Sodapop in the first place was sort of a red flag. "Stevie, man, I just saw ya. What gives?"

"My old man is coming over," Steve told him. Soda nodded.

"I know. We talked about this last night."

"Evie just up and invited 'im!"

Soda shrugged. "He came to you wedding."

 _"So?!_ "

" _So_ , it'll be fine. You need to calm down. Hell, I'd kill for my old man to be comin' to Thanksgivin'."

Steve's shoulders fell. "Man, I know. You don't gotta tell me that crap, I know."

Sodapop smirked. "So, relax. It'll be fine."

Yeah, yeah. And that's what everybody else said. It's what Bridget and Two-Bit said, and Darry and Jackie and Ponyboy. Mr. Martin even pulled Steve aside once he'd arrived with his wife and Beth to tell him that everything would be fine and that he was in his corner. Steve just wanted to scream that nobody fucking understood his relationship with his old man, that there had only been that brief reprieve a couple years back and then everything had gone back to how it had been. He didn't need his father-in-law to tell him that everything would be _just fine_.

His father, when he arrived, rang the doorbell. Two-Bit joked about how an old Jewish man can't be that scary. Steve told him that he was Catholic and had no idea what he was talking about. He could make out the outline of his father through the frosted glass on the front door, and Steve could feel his breath get taken away for a moment when he opened the door and let the cold air in. Steve saw his father plenty, in actuality, but it always took him a moment to process his presence. He'd just been so absent ever since his mother died. It was like he'd taken up the occupation of resident ghost, and he hadn't been the one to die.

"Hey, Dad," Steve breathed. His father's stiff posture relaxed and he smiled, which was already sort of weird.

"Steven," he said simply, grasping his hand. "It's good to see you."

Steve blinked. He could feel eyes on them from behind him, knowing it was his buddies watching, trying to be slick about it. "You too. You should come in." His voice sounded robotic even to his own ears. "Dinner should be soon."

"Wonderful."

Steve wanted to explode. He had been ready for instant ridicule, or a snarky comment, or even no comment at all – he hadn't been ready for him to be glad to see him. Which made the situation all the more frustrating because Steve was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And what made the situation even more frustrating was that everybody just… _accepted_ him. Not groovy. His buddies knew all about his relationship with his dad, so what the fuck.

Steve hid out in the kitchen.

Or, he tried to. The second Evie saw him, she turned on him.

"What are _you_ doin' in here?" She asked. Everyone else around her, all the ladies, were in a flurry of activity. Gabbing away while they chopped and mashed and sliced and put into serving dishes. Steve shrugged.

"Just…seein' how it's comin' along."

Evie eyed him suspiciously. "It's comin' along fine. Now quit lyin' – what're you really doin' back here?"

It was hard to lie to Evie. "Can I talk to you for a sec?" He asked, working to keep his voice controlled and calm. Evie nodded and followed him back to their bedroom.

"What's up?" She asked.

Steve couldn't hold back any longer. "My dad, Eve!"

"What's wrong? He's gettin' along fine from what I can hear."

"That's just it!" Steve laughed bitterly. "Doesn't that come off a bit strange to you?" Evie raised an eyebrow. "Evie! He's been an asshole my whole _life!"_

"Not your whole life," she said, putting her hands up placatingly. "Stevie. Come on. Things change."

"Not for the better, in my experience."

"That's in _your_ experience," Evie said testily. "And if you think nothing in your life has improved, that's your own damn problem! And," she added, "you'd be wrong."

"Oh yeah?"

"I suppose you're forgetting about me, then," Evie said shakily, and Steve suddenly wished the color scheme of their bedroom wasn't so bright because nothing about it was appropriate for this situation. Why was everyone so obsessed with colors these days? "And you'd be forgetting everything he did for you, and not just bringing you into this godforsaken world, no. Don't you dare act as if he didn't save your damn _life_. When I couldn't get through to you, or Soda? Somehow, he did. You'd be dead in some alley downtown with a syringe stickin' outta yer arm," she hissed, getting in his face. "So don't pretend he ain't done nothin' for you. He's tryin'. You're the one fuckin' up here."

Evie spun on her feet and left without another word from either of them, and Steve followed a couple minutes later, letting himself cool off. Evie was back in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Her sister sized her up. "Everything cool?" Beth asked, and Evie nodded, letting out a slow breath.

"Groovy," she confirmed. Bridget passed by her and patted her shoulder, a grounding gesture.

Evie looked at all of these women, these wonderful women. Jackie and Mrs. Martin were talking animatedly as they started setting dishes on the table. Bridget, their radiant flower child, was putting the finishing touches on the mashed potato casserole. And Beth, naïve Beth, was buttering up the rolls. Evie counted on these women, loved them as family even if a couple of them weren't blood, but loved her mother and sister just as much. She just couldn't see how her husband was so resistant to his father's attempts to mend their relationship. Evie cleared her throat.

"I think we're about ready, huh?" She asked, a funny feeling in her stomach – the nerves of a hostess. Bridget sighed and slipped into her heels (Evie hadn't even noticed she'd been barefoot) and smiled.

"I think so."

Evie wiped her hands off on her apron and then took it off, hanging it back up in the pantry. She went into the living room, where the men were sitting watching television. Evie caught Steve's eye, and she noticed that he was sitting and listening to his father tell Ponyboy some of his horror stories from his years of teaching, which seemed to have the younger man enthralled and in stitches – this was not the man Steve had described to him, the one he'd described in his theme. Steve winked back at her. Evie felt something warm in her stomach.

"Dinner's ready, boys."

xXx

Once they were all seated at the dining room table, Evie said pleasantly, "I thought we'd try something. I thought we could go around the table and all say something we're thankful for. That's what this holiday's all about, isn't it?" She held out her hands in an expectant gesture. "So?"

There was a beat of silence where no one seemed to either understand what it was she was proposing, or how to react to it. Possibly both. Bridget broke the silence. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea!" She chirped, and she seemed to mean it. "Who wants to start?"

"Well, since it was my idea, I suppose I'll demonstrate." Evie theatrically put a hand to her chest and primly cleared her throat, and Steve glanced at Sodapop and rolled his eyes as discreetly as he could, and Soda pursed his lips to hold back laughter. "I'm thankful that everybody was able to safely make it here so we could be together today." Evie grinned, pleased with herself, and everybody gave her a semi-sarcastic round of half-hearted applause. Her mother patted her hand. She looked across the table at her husband. "Steve? How about you?"

Steve realized this was a test from his wife, and probably God, too. But he was quick on his feet, and he could figure out for himself what he could say that would make Evie happy, and he thought maybe he could meet her halfway. He did love her, after all. "Well," he grinned broadly, and he caught Soda's eye for a split second – any longer and he'd have burst into laughter – " _I'm_ thankful that you took the time to plan all this in the first place so we could all be together." His in-laws looked just about ready to sing his praises, and Evie put her hands over her heart, making everyone laugh. That was clearly the right thing to say, and Steve mentally patted himself on the back. Soda muttered " _kiss-ass_ " quietly enough so just Steve heard, and then Steve kicked him under the table.

"Uh," Pony raised his hand, drawing everyone's attention because dammit, this wasn't one of his creative writing classes so what the fuck was he doing, "Evie? I've got something, I think."

"Ooh! Yes! Tell us."

Okay, Evie was clearly very excited about all of this, so Pony felt a little bad about what he was about to do, but he figured there was no going back now, so he (mildly, mildly) glared across the table at Darry, who instantly looked confused and a bit defensive, and said, "I'm thankful that I still have a home here – _for now_ – for when I'm not home in Chicago."

Darry rolled his eyes so hard, everyone at the table was surprised he didn't just fucking die right there on the spot. "Pony, it's not the _house_ , it's the people. Where we are doesn't matter, and we need the space."

"But nobody told me, and what do ya mean, you need more space?"

Jackie raised a timid hand. "Evie, I've got somethin'."

Evie raised an eyebrow, wondering where exactly all this was going. "Go ahead."

Jackie took a deep breath, and smiled at Darry, who suddenly looked wide-eyed and a bit panicked. Then she looked back at the table. "I'm thankful that all of you have let me into your family…especially since it's going to be official."

All eyes were on Darry and Jackie, most of them confused. Sodapop and Ponyboy were staring hard at their older brother, not Jackie, trying to get a read on him. It just didn't make sense to them; Darry and Jackie clearly had a thing for each other and had been together what…six months? Ish? But if Jackie was saying what they _thought_ she was saying, it just didn't make sense! Pony and Soda knew their brother, and they knew he didn't rush anything, and six-ish months wasn't enough for him, unless –

Sodapop fell back against his seat. "Darry."

"Don't, Soda. Stop."

" _Darry_."

"Soda!"

" _Darry, oh my good God."_

After all those years of Darry telling them to wrap it up, and this happens. Steve and his father both glanced at each other, in that moment understanding each other with perfect clarity. Both men took a drink to keep themselves from bursting into laughter as the rest of the table slowly caught on to what it was that was going on and what this meant. Bridget put a hand to her chest.

"Jackie…you're saying – "

"We're having a baby…!" Jackie sang, going for casually excited. Darry grabbed her hand under the table.

"And we're gettin' married," he said quietly.

There followed a few moments of awful silence in which Darry and Jackie held their breath, awaiting judgment. Suddenly, Ponyboy understood why Darry and Jackie wanted to move, and he felt rotten about the way he had behaved about it. And Bridget and Evie both thought back to last night in the kitchen, the way Jackie had made those carefully casual comments about how maybe Two-Bit would love Bridget even more once they had a child, but it wasn't Bridget who Jackie had been referring to. It had been herself. It had been Jackie, who all them liked but were still getting to know. But she and Darry had made this happen, had decided to get married, and that had to be worth something. Didn't it? It was Thanksgiving, after all, and Thanksgiving was all about family. That was why they were all here.

Yes, they were all here because they were family, even though that was schmaltzy and it wasn't as easy as any of them wanted it to be. That realization seemed to make this news easier, seemed to get all their asses in gear.

Two-Bit, per usual, was the first to recover. He shot his buddy a proud smile. "Man, Darry, way to go."

Darry and Jackie both smiled as the rest of the table crowed their congratulations and the women squealed over Jackie and wanted to start talking wedding preparations immediately. They didn't finish with Evie's little game of saying what they were all thankful for, but they figured they all already knew.

xXx

"I bet you're 'bout ready to kill me right now."

Bridget shut the refrigerator and slowly turned around. She smiled patiently, kindly. "No," she said. "Not today."

Two-Bit smirked. He tapped his finger against his beer bottle. "Fair 'nuff. But…"

"But what?"

Two-Bit just leaned against the door jamb and stared at Bridget, for once not knowing what to say next. He just watched her, and she watched him. "Nothin'," he whispered. "C'mon, come watch the game."

Bridget laughed a little. "I'm no fun to watch football with. I don't know what's going on."

"Then I'll explain it to ya. C'mon." He held out his hand and she grabbed it, letting him lead her out to the living room where everyone else was sitting in front of the television set, lounging around on the couches and the floor, wacked out on tryptophan. Bridget and Two-Bit settled on the loveseat just as Mr. Randle came from the hallway with Steve right behind him, his fists shoved into his jean pockets as Mr. Randle put on his coat and headed for the front door.

"Thank you for inviting me," John said sincerely and privately to his son. Steve gave him a sad smile. He really wasn't the sentimental type, but tonight had been a lot. And he wouldn't say all this, but this man was his father, and he had been here for Thanksgiving and he had gone to his wedding and had pulled him back from the brink after he'd come home from Vietnam and helped him get his life back together. Hell, he probably had his father to think for helping him get the nerve to ask Evie in the first place, and now he was going to go back to his house, the one Steve had grown up in, the same one he'd found his mother dead in. His father had to go back to that house every day. Steve had never thought about it like that before.

"Anytime, Dad," he whispered. Then he smiled. "Hopefully next year won't be as crazy."

John grinned. "You think that was crazy? Remind me to tell you about Hanukkah, 1949 sometime."

Both men laughed. Steve wanted to say that he should stay and tell all of them, but he knew his father. He was ready to go home. "Will do. See ya later, Dad." Steve waved as his father walked out into the late fall night, driving away. It made him feel funny, knowing what was at the end of the road for him, knowing he'd still be alone and rethinking whether or not his father liked it that way. Steve felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Evie smiling at him. He sighed. "What, Evelyn."

"I won't ask you to say I was right," she dimpled, "but…I was right."

"You think that."

"I will!" Evie pecked him on the lips and nodded her head back towards the living room, telling her to follow her. The whole gang was still sitting with their eyes glued to the game, motionless, but every now and then someone would say something. At one point, Evie decided to be bold and ask Jackie, "so how far along are you anyways?"

Jackie grinned. "Almost two months. Everything really has happened very quickly."

"There are ways to figure out what it's going to be," Bridget piped in. "Like what you're craving or by your mood."

"Ring test," Two-Bit added, and everybody looked at him funny. He scowled. "What? Ma had Sadie when I was nine. I remember she was all over this shit."

"What do you guys want?" Pony asked.

"A boy," Darry said immediately, and his brothers cheered – _"Hell yeah! 'Nother Curtis man!"_ Sodapop crowed – "I wouldn't know what the hell to do with a girl."

"Guess we'll see," Jackie said pleasantly.

"But when are you gettin' hitched?" Steve asked. Figured another one of them would get married before Two-Bit got up the nerve. Darry and Jackie looked at each other.

"Well," Jackie drawled, "I kinda had this girlhood fantasy of gettin' married on Valentine's Day," she admitted, blushing. "I know it sounds kinda stupid, but…we want to wait 'til after the holidays and then…we don't exactly have any better ideas."

"Alrighty, then," Sodapop grinned. "So after Christmas, we'll only have to wait 'til Valentine's Day to see each other again!"

They all laughed, but it was true that was how life worked now. They were lucky they all liked each other enough to look forward to such things. Things were changing with no way to really stop them. Maybe that was alright, the way things were supposed to be, so they could appreciate what they had right now all the more. And so they did all see each other on Valentine's Day of 1974 as Darry and Jackie tied the knot, pink dresses and red ties.

But like the Hanukkah of 1949, that's a story for another time. For now, they're all right where they're supposed to be.

XXXXX

 **AN: So for those of you familiar with Lee Curtis, I guess this is his origin story. ;)**

 **Okay, this one-shot is rife with references, so I feel I should list them out.**

 **" _Fai dolce, dolce amore"_ translates from Italian to _"make sweet, sweet love."_ "** ** _Sono un bravo insegnante e tu sei uno studente disponibile. Ti insegnerò e poi ti insegnerò alcune cose anche in italiano_** **" translates to " _I'm a good teacher, and you're a willing student. I'll teach you, and then teach you a few things in Italian as well_." Naughty boy. ;)**

 ** _There Goes Rhymin' Simon_** **is a Paul Simon album from 1973, and I freakin' love it. Some of his most well-known songs are on it, like "Kodachrome" and "Loves Me Like a Rock." No wonder Evie has listened to it a billion times.**

 **Ziggy Stardust is, of course, named after the David Bowie album of the same name.**

 **"Flying Circus" refers to _Monty Python's Flying Circus_ , which aired in America on PBS _._**

 **Joe Cool is one of Snoopy's alter-egos from the _Peanuts_ comics.**

 **Emily Post wrote a bunch of books about etiquette and manners back in the nineteenth century.**

 **Bridget and Two-Bit are Deadheads, and it was a popular thing for fans of theirs to follow them around from show to show, so they're referring to real shows that happened along the east coast in the spring and late summer of 1972 and 1973. Another popular thing to do was for those shows to be audio recorded, and then people would trade tapes and you'd be able to hear the show even if you weren't there. The referenced song at the end of that section is "They Really Love Each Other."**

 **And fun fact: Thanksgiving Day 1973 was on November 22nd – which is today! So this whole mess happened exactly 45 years ago!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


End file.
